


Compassion Cloak

by mirwalker



Series: In Plain Sight [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4004275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirwalker/pseuds/mirwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An intriguing Ancient find leads Sheppard, Lorne and a familiar outcast on interconnected searches for home. A Third Season-based sequel to my <em>Too Much to Pretend</em>, as second of possible/likely trilogy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This a teaser for the growing sequel to my _Too Much To Pretend_ , which I suggest reading to get backstory on characters and their relations.
> 
> The story is currently set in the early part of Season Three (probably between _Irresistible_ (3.03) and _Sateda_ (3.04)). As with its prequel, I'll probably include some Map and Playlist info, along with other footnotes along the way to help interested readers explore more.

With Sheppard jogging along in close pursuit, McKay began speaking almost before he was entirely into Weir's office, and nearly tossed his open laptop onto her desk. "Jackson confirmed it! There's a Greek legend about the 'Ring of Gyges,' which gave its wearer the power of invisibility…"(1)

Weir calmly closed her own computer, and looked up at the exuberant physicist with noncommittal expectation.

Not the shared excitement McKay was hoping for; but she also didn't immediately yell at him like Sheppard had when he'd interrupted the Colonel's game of solitaire. So he continued before either of them could change their minds, "The Ancient database includes a reference to a facility called 'Gaetea', where some of their most important work on cloaking, and maybe shielding, was developed. Probably for security reasons, it wasn't connected to a specific Gate address; so we hadn't known to explore it sooner."

"Rodney has _decided_ ," Sheppard summarized, "that the word fragment carved into the city's colonnade, the ionic interference thingies in the atmosphere, and these other coincidences mean that we've found this month's 'discovery of a lifetime.'"

While not appreciating the obviously dubious tone, McKay couldn't argue with the list of evidence and the conclusion. "Jackson suggested that Ancient name could easily have mutated into 'Gyges' on Earth, even as the Lantean stories morphed into the sunken city of Atlantis myth."

"I take it you are… less convinced?" Weir asked her military commander.

"Let's just say that I still find it really convenient that one of our teams just 'happened' to overhear a conversation that points us toward a planet on the edge of the galaxy that just 'happens' to be a key Ancient research facility."

"What's that saying about looking at 'gift horses' again…?" McKay feigned forgetfulness.

"John, you think it's a set-up?"

"He thinks it's a _trap_ ," McKay acknowledged. "But the MALP showed no indication of recent activity; just a large Ancient city overrun by an abundance of plant and animal life."

"It's basically forest with some walls, Rodney; it's not like there could be footprints in snow or tracks in the dust to show who or what's been there recently," Sheppard countered. "And as many animal lifeforms as are crawling around there, it'll be hard to tell if anyone was there or approaching." Turning to Weir, he raised his most important concern. "Besides, what really makes me uncomfortable is that the atmospheric conditions _Dr McKay_ pointed out from the MALP readings only _appear_ not to affect on-the-ground sensors or communications. He's already determined that they _will_ keep us from determining whether anything is in orbit. So, if any unfriendlies are in the area-land or air, we'll have no way of knowing until they're on us."

"So we take additional guns and grunts, and stay alert… How is that so different from 90% of our missions? It's what the military is here for!"

"While I appreciate your condescending confidence in my men, Rodney…"

"The natural jamming qualities of the planet's atmosphere were probably both the basis for the Ancient cloak and shield research—which has protected us on numerous occasions, and a good defense for the facility itself," McKay interrupted, trying to make a calmer, clear argument lest Sheppard out-cool him. "To have access to the Ancients' source material could potentially help us improve our cloaks, if not shields; and who knows what else." He didn't need to spell out that the renewed Wraith attention made any such advantages critical.

Taking another breath, he continued, "I appreciate that that the good Colonel is rightly concerned for my safety-"

Sheppard rolled his eyes at the comfortingly consistent narcissism.

"—But I also wanted to ask that we commandeer Max Royce before the _Daedalus_ gets him out of range. With an assistant, I can move faster through any materials we find, so we don't spend any more time than necessary on the scary planet. We can at least get the raw data back to Atlantis for a deeper review; and then Ginger Spice can continue on his way home." With a sideways glance to his sworn defender, he reminded, "And, getting Royce would also mean that the big, powerful space carrier will be hovering overhead, should any _forest animals_ pose a threat to us."

Sheppard pursed his lips and rocked on his heels, surprised and disappointed that he really couldn't argue McKay's logic in this instance.

A little surprised at the effectiveness of his own rationale, McKay smiled expectantly at Weir, whose look at him showed she was still torn. He made a last effort to seal his case, playing the one card he knew would push her over the edge. "Elizabeth, the fact that I'm actually asking for help on this should tell you how important I think it is…"

Sheppard's eyebrows shot up at this rare near-admission that the amazing McKay would acknowledge another scientist's value.

With a trademark in-breath on reaching a tough decision, Weir nodded and tapped her headset, "Sergeant, contact the _Daedalus_ and ask Colonel Caldwell to divert to the coordinates Dr McKay will provide momentarily. Please ask him to have Dr Royce prepare for a surface mission, tropical climate; details to follow."

"It will take them about two hours to get there from their present location," she pointed out, suggesting that she'd already considered the possibility before even being asked. Handing McKay his laptop, she leaned in to emphasize the conditions for her approval. "I want you both to take _every_ possible precaution to safeguard and speed up the mission. If it is too good to pass up, let's not. But let's be smart about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. See "Ring of Gyges" on [Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ring_of_Gyges) or other source.


	2. Chapter 2

"Can I join you?" she asked, standing beside his table in the nearly empty cafeteria about an hour before local midnight.

"Jen, hi! Of course," the tired looking officer said, standing politely out of habit, and gesturing to the seat across from him.

"You're up late," she pointed out as she took the offered seat, and mixed a little sugar into her breakfast oatmeal.

"My team's already done with their post-mission stuff, and off to bed. I was just…," he began to gesture at the files stacked beside him on the table.

"Working alone, late at night, on stuff that Colonel Sheppard has put off for a while, and so could easily wait until morning? Especially after a busy day off- world...," Keller named, explicitly, with a clearly judgmental smirk.

The soldier just grinned back guiltily; caught.

"Evan," his friend smiled back and reminded quietly, "I know you miss him. But working yourself into the ground isn't going to help, or change that."

"I know," Lorne sighed, letting down his guard a little with this one person in this galaxy he didn't have to pretend around. "By midday tomorrow, he'll be beyond Pegasus, and well on his way to be safer back on Earth; and we'll be less at risk when not here together. But..."

The unfortunate paradox hung between them, not needing to be said. Evan felt it enough; and Jen felt bad for him, beyond missing her first Atlantis friend for herself.

Evan patted the pile beside him. "And… it's not like I don't have plenty to do to keep up, much less catch up around here of late."

She nodded. It had been busy: Just since her and Max's arrival, Michael had been created, and escaped. Evan had recovered from injuries sustained capturing Michael, only to have Max diagnosed with a deathly "allergy" to most Stargate-based technology. The Alpha team had been nearly killed rescuing a planet from the super-volcano the locals had accidently awakened. Then, Michael had returned to lead a hive to Atlantis, and gotten them all double-crossed by the Queen, who then made an attempt to reach Earth. Defeated, Michael and her hive had been treated with the retrovirus, but recovered and nearly escaped. And the City population was still reeling from having been brainwashed—chemically—and briefly subjugated by the huckster, Lucius.

Come to think of it, it had rarely been quiet, or simple, or safe, since she'd arrived. Above and beyond normal exploration operations, that clearly generated a lot of stress, and paperwork. But it also meant they needed more of a break, not more of the same. So, she smiled with some seriousness, "Would it do any good if I medically ordered you to take the night off?"

He grinned back, "I appreciate the thought; but until I get through this backlog…"

"OK," she conceded. "As long as this isn't just avoiding missing Max. I'll be watching you, Major. And I made a promise to tell him if you weren't taking care of yourself. If you don't fear me…"

"Loud and clear, doc," he laughed with her. He took more than a little comfort that his fiery redhead was watching out for him, even if soon to be a galaxy away.

* * *

"Where is he?" McKay shouted from inside the smaller room just off the large hall. While he'd immediately holed up in the lab, or control room, or computing facility—whatever it was, as soon as the Atlantis teams had found it a few buildings over from the Gaetea stargate, their chief science officer had still continued to make himself known to everyone else as he demanded equipment brought to him, people out of his space, a sandwich delivered, and now, yet another update on his custom-ordered assistant.

"The jumper isn't here yet, Rodney," Sheppard shouted over his shoulder, with all the irritation of a parent explaining that they weren't "there" yet. Giving the whine no more thought than that, in fact, he turned back to checking in with his personnel using the paper-drawn sketch of this area of the city, since their scans were spotty at best, especially inside this complex. "Roger that, Ndele. Sheppard to all teams, that should complete our perimeter for now. Let's keep check-ins every ten minutes, eyes sharp, and bark at anything that varies from the status quo…"

"This place really does make you uncomfortable, John?" Teyla asked, not accustomed to this level of tight security or tense senior officers.

"This place gives me 'the creepers' too," Ronan added in defense of Sheppard's heightened defenses.

"It is a place created by the Ancestors," Teyla reminded, with a peaceful smile. "And the forest is simply reclaiming it now that they no longer have use for it."

"It's too quiet," Sheppard de-romanticized quickly, as he and Ronan started slightly as his shoulder-clipped radio announced, "Levesque to Sheppard, Major Lorne's jumper is arriving…"

* * *

That jumper was almost upon the sentries before they could finally make it out, skimming just below the low, ionizing cloud cover. It settled into the courtyard one building over from the crowded Gate colonnade, where the gate was being kept open as a quick escape exit to a neutral site, and to prevent anyone else from dialing in on the sensitive operation. The two jumper occupants exchanged friendly hellos with the relief pilot who boarded and kept it ready to lift off again quickly, if needed.

The new arrivals made their way deep into the crumbling complex, with friendly nods to a few of the vigilant Marines along the way. A smiling German soldier waved the brown-haired officer and the red-haired scientist into the large and improvised HQ room, where they dutifully checked in with the lead team members.

"Colonel," Royce nodded from just beyond handshake distance, before sharing a pleasant smile with Teyla and Ronan as well.

"Doctor," Sheppard nodded back with matching professionalism. "Sorry to have pulled you from your homeward travels; but, what Rodney wants…" He waved toward the open doors to the smaller side room where Rodney was waiting "to get."

Royce took a large, deep breath, glanced to Lorne, and headed into the mouse's den.

"Never mind facing us all again, was he keen on having his trip interrupted for more quality time with Rodney?" Sheppard asked with a knowing grimace. They all knew Royce still held their treatment of Michael, and of him in that fiasco, against them to some degree; but they also knew McKay held a special place in most people's hearts.

"McKay may get on his nerves; but he's also a geek at heart," Lorne reminded. "Another chance to get his brain around some new Ancient text is hard to pass up…"

"My money's still on Max, if it comes to it," volunteered Ronan, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

* * *

"Your hair's a little messed up," McKay pointed out, as a means of greeting his former supervisee.

"Yours is thinning," Royce fired back immediately, smiling at the quick return to familiar insulting semi-jest. "How's Zelenka?" he added to soften the exchange.

"Still Czech," remained the firm judgment.

As he waited for McKay to look up again with instructions for their task, Royce ran his hand through his hair, hoping that Evan's shorter cut showed less tousling, or that the others had been less observant than the physicist. Another reason his return to Earth was for the best, if not easy.

After several moments, McKay seemed to remember that he was there; and shot him an irritated glance, before realizing the soft scientist needed him to explain the task at hand. Gesturing, he broke the work into small pieces that he felt the linguist could handle, "I've got power connected to a few parts of the system, and am going to try to activate it in sections; I need you to watch the monitors for indications of content. Despite the complete lack of neighborly indications on the scanner," he nodded to the tablet on the counter, "Sheppard is convinced we're going to be overrun at any moment. So we need to prioritize recovery of only 'vital' material… At least at first. Think you can handle that?"

" _You_ don't think it odd that there's no life showing near us; none at all?" Royce asked, ignoring the implied jab, and instead looking at all the empty spots on the scanner screen. He'd enjoyed camping long enough to expect that _some_ wildlife would remain or return quickly after the human's initial intrusion into their home territory.

"We've probably just scared away all the critters from the areas we're operating in," McKay dismissed, resuming his tinkering with the console in front of him.

"Every single one of them?"

"I don't know; thankfully, I'm not a zoologist… As long as they're giving me the same safe distance as I'm offering them, I don't really care about the local fauna. And, if that distance changes, we have guns, which I'm guessing they don't. So, while I'm thrilled not to be the paranoid one for once, I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop it with the spidey sense nonsense and irrelevant questions, and focus on the data possibilities here, before Sheppard gets too warm or bored, and decides it's time to leave."

Satisfied with the strength of his chiding, McKay expected Royce to turn back to the tablet he'd pointed out; but with his peripheral vision he could tell that Royce had not moved at all. "Any time you want to get to it," he barked.

"Rodney?" came the quiet response.

"What?"

"Rodney!"

"What?!" the Chief Science Officer shouted with raw irritation.

McKay turned to find the little room was somehow and suddenly full of unfamiliar and armed people, one standing far too close to a tense Royce, who pointed out that "It seems the locals _do_ have guns."


	3. Chapter 3

"Colonel-!" the radios crackled incompletely, as wall panels around the large hall fell away, revealing multiple armed figures. More poured in from the surrounding hallways, their adversarial intent and overwhelming numbers quickly evident. Earth pistols and P90s were up just as swiftly, creating an instant standoff between the nearly surrounded Atlantis personnel and the surprise arrivals.

The impasse was ended just as quickly, when McKay and Royce staggered awkwardly in from the lab with yet still more guns aimed at their heads by yet still more unknown soldiers. The physicist's big eyes were fixed on Sheppard, while the linguist's steeled face stared into the mid-distance toward Lorne.

For their part, the ambush entourage was visually more motley: dressed in a mix of fabrics and styles, with faces of many hues, accented by a range of marks and dangles. They carried a mix of energy, ballistic and blade weapons. But for their visibly diverse appearance, they were all clearly focused on their targets.

"Drop all your weapons and step to the side of the room," a heavily scarred man said, feeling no need to spell out the negative consequences for non-compliance.

Counting heads for a third time, Sheppard understood that only a few of his nearby people were unaccounted for—likely not enough to make a significant difference soon enough. He saw his second in command and several other warriors doing the same calculations and reaching the same undesirable conclusion. He also computed that the slightest twitch of Lorne's finger would send a stream of hot metal into the cheek of the man holding the weapon to Royce.

As if to reinforce the current imbalance of power, several additional strange soldiers approached, dragging the limp forms of the Colonel's three perimeter sentries. One stranger in slightly better attire sauntered in with them, surveying the shifting stalemate with smug satisfaction as he walked up beside the apparent spokes-soldier, who reminded and clarified for the captives, "'Now' would be wise."

A flex from his captor elicited a whimper from McKay, also reinforcing the suggestion.

Seeing no better option, Sheppard grimaced, and nodded those under his command to play along. For the moment.

Slowly, grudgingly, and without breaking eye contact with their captors, the Atlantis personnel unclipped and set down their semi-automatic weapons and cleared their hip holsters.

" _All_ of your weapons," the scarred man insisted, glaring with particular emphasis at Dex.

Several more blades, sidearms and clips were added to the collection around the room.

"Move," various soldiers prodded on a nod from their commander, herding the Expedition members carefully through the scattered supplies to gather in an exit-less corner. As they were corralled, other soldiers gathered up the surrendered items, checked their safeties and added them to large bags.

Under the watchful eyes of their new guards, Sheppard and Lorne took positions at the edge of the group closest to the scarred and more finely dressed men, presuming these would be the focus of any discussions. Ronan and Teyla extended the outer defenses, as McKay and Royce were quickly shuffled toward the center of the protective military ring.

"Which of you is the shepherd?" the most finely appointed man asked, his dull red jacket, pristine bandolier and wide belt standing out among the blander and more utilitarian outfits of the others. As the only one not holding a weapon, it was clear he instead carried status and expected to be obeyed because of it.

The other speaker held both a weapon and authority; and he exercised both when the other's question wasn't answered. Met with only cold stares and silence, he turned to the biggest, strongest-looking team member, and promptly shot Ronon in the foot.

The Lanteans' collective flinch was matched by much fist-clenching and rocking in place, as the Satedan gritted his teeth, and pulled himself back up to nearly full height with only a renewed rage in his face.

"Who's asking?" countered Sheppard as a quick intervention against further force, tipping his hat if his front-and-center location hadn't already done so.

"Simple enough," the man in finery smiled and wrung his hands at how easily things were going. "We'll take him."

The harder soldier shot him an unpleasant glance, continuing to look over the captives as if he was still looking for something, and ordered, "Bring them all."

Both to complicate the assumptions of leadership their captors were making, and to challenge the presumption the captives would comply so easily, Lorne leaned forward, "Hang on…!"

The military leader brought his gun up instantly, ready to make clear again that he had no patience for anything other than instant, complete and silent cooperation.

Guessing he was apparently the prize here, and so less likely to be injured, Sheppard puts his hands up and stepped quickly in front of the major, soothing, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! You can't blame us for being curious about who's threatening us for no apparent reason." He glanced at the fancy leader, before turning to his military counterpart, hoping for some engagement that would stall whatever plans they were carrying out with extreme efficiency. "Would you just surrender quietly if strange guns were pointed at you?"

Unflinching, the scarred man kept his weapon pointed at Sheppard and acknowledged, "I would not be stupid about it." He twitched the gun in the direction he'd already indicated they should move.

On cue, his men at the back of the crowd stepped in, pushing the Atlantis personnel in that direction. Suffering no more interruptions, the captors herded them out toward the Stargate courtyard, making the Marines drag their own wounded along with them.

While Teyla and Royce helped Ronan limp along, Lorne and Sheppard shared a look of concern: _This guy is good._ Sheppard looked up into the clouds, as if hoping for some sign or assistance there.

As they were moved out into the shadowed courtyard with that grudging admiration, they found another half-dozen soldiers were scattered around its edge. The Atlantis team tasked to guard the gate were also there, lined up, prone, on the ground; no entry wounds were visible, so hopefully they were simply stunned. Two other men were just dragging an unconscious jumper pilot into the courtyard.

Lorne and Sheppard again exchanged grimacing glances, understanding that these last reinforcements were no longer available, and that this adversary was apparently well-informed and obviously very thorough.

Herded into a corner away from the gate and DHD, the Atlantis personnel watched as their captors piled bags of their gear near the Gate, while large, empty bags were dropped around the edge of their circle. One of the soldiers instructed them all to, "Strip. The bodies too. Everything in the bags."

Perhaps anticipating some argument, another soldier smiled wickedly, "You won't be needing any of this anymore."

"Just a second," Sheppard began to protest again.

"Not you," another soldier waved to him. "You're coming with us."

Two soldiers lowered their weapons and stepped in to grab Sheppard, clearly intent on separating him from the group and its fate.

Tensions jumped again, as the Atlantis team settled into noncompliant stances. Ronon growled again.

"Hey! You can take me," Sheppard protested past the flunkies toward the two apparent leaders of the group, "but leave them be. If you're taking our gear, they're no threat to you."

The scarred man sneered, and began to raise his weapon.

"All right, Colonel; I think that's enough," interrupted Royce suddenly, elbowing his way firmly to the front of the glaring group, facing both the fine and fierce leaders.

"What is this?" the better-dressed man snorted, not pleased at this unexpected turn in his hold-up.

The new speaker continued with an even more obvious irritation. "I had hoped my chief military officer would be able handle this; but it's clear that you won't listen to him. So, I'm hoping you'll listen to me."

"And you are?" sneered the fancy man.

"I'm Doctor Maximus Royce." The man's face showed only confusion; so Royce continued his explanation, "It's obvious from the precision of your operation here today, that you're very familiar with us and our ways. So I _assume_ you're also familiar with that title among our people: 'Doctor'?"

The man glanced aside at his men, not wanting to show them any indecision or lack of knowledge. "Your supreme leader is 'Doctor Weir,'" he stated somewhat relevantly.

"And I am the Doctor-leader here, in her absence."

"Hey wait, if that's all it takes-," McKay started, before Teyla laid a firm hand on his arm and a silencing heel on his toes.

"It seems you're looking for our leader," Royce observed. "Well, that's me; the Colonel was trying to protect me by speaking up first. I don't know who you are or what your goal is; but if there's something you want or need with our leader, that'll be me. With whom am I speaking?" He stepped forward again, making himself more clearly the individual of note, and hoping he could draw out their captors as well. "Do what you want with me; but spare my people." He held out his hands as if ready to be bound and led away.

"No way, Max! Colonel?!" Lorne shouted and started forward, as he realized what Royce was trying to do.

"Colonel, control your men," barked Royce, with an unhappy look on his face, as Sheppard was already grabbing the Major's tac vest.

"Colonel, you aren't going to let him do this-?" pled the Atlantis executive officer slightly more quietly.

A few steps away, well beyond his reach, their "leader" continued trying to convince the head kidnapper of his legitimacy. "Clearly you waited to spring your trap until I arrived by special escort…"

"Major. Major! Evan…" Sheppard's attention-getting yell faded quickly to a whisper, as he shook Lorne's lapels and stepped into his line of sight. "The more you protest, the more important and valuable you make Royce look..."

That calculus got the major's attention; and he stopped struggling immediately.

"I don't like this any more than you do," Sheppard whispered. "But he's getting us information, confusing theirs, and, more importantly, buying us time to figure out something else, or to let our… _friends_ realize something's up." He glanced up into the clouds again.

Lorne's scowl didn't change, but he nodded that he understood the tactics his concern for Royce had briefly overcome.

Behind them, the scarred soldier reminded his increasingly agitated leader, "He specifically told us the leader would be a 'shepherd.' You don't want to go back with the wrong one."

The shift in tone and tension caused the senior Atlantis officers to turn their attention back to the negotiations.

The idea of seizing the wrong captive didn't seem to sit well with any of the mercenaries.

"We'll take them both," the plumper pirate concluded confidently. Nodding to another set of men, he turned away. He was done. They were leaving. The rest of the Lanteans were of no more concern.

Beside the Gate dias, the signaled man began dialing, while two others carried another large, but bulging bag toward the ring.

As other soldiers bound the hands of Sheppard and Royce, Max threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder, not surprised to find Evan's determined gaze fixed clearly on him. Looking over to the Expedition's South African member, the linguist uttered something quickly including a few sharp clicks.

Interrupting a final "verily" cast toward the Major, the captors pulled their two lead prisoners away toward the Gate, too quickly and roughly for them to see the address on the DHD.

Not sure what else they could do with two hostages held and weapons still trained on them, the Atlantis teams slowly began removing their gear—nonetheless intent on playing for whatever time and opportunity they could.

As soon as the new wormhole stabilized, the closest mercenaries pulled several large, limp and reddish lumps from their parcels, and began tossing them through.

The bulk of the mercenaries began shifting toward the Gate, expecting their loot to be offered and their getaway completed shortly. Backing toward the odd travel ritual at the event horizon, the captors kept their weapons trained on the nearly disrobed captives, with only a few remaining near enough to collect and carry the surrendered clothing.

The robed leader stood smugly behind his two hostages, and laughed loudly over his army, "The pleasure was all ours!"

Rolling his eyes at the unnecessary theatrics, the lead strongman ordered his men to close the deal, "Kill them ah-"

But his instruction was quickly interrupted by the drone of engines echoing between the ground, buildings and cloud cover, moving rapidly toward them, as various radios came to life. "Sgt Levesque, Colonel Sheppard or other Expedition personnel, this is Captain Chen of the Wraithwaxers, please respond. Expedition members, what is your status?"(1)

The startled looks on most faces were wiped by an outbreak of shouts, hurled boots and excited gunfire.

Three SGC fighters streaked overhead in succession, drowning out everyone's attempts to coordinate a reaction. Assessing an unfriendly situation, the space jets peppered surrounding buildings with rapid fire, raining debris onto the courtyard.

Seizing on the confusion, the Lantean soldiers rushed their captors, snapping, whipping and whirling shirts and pants ahead of them, harassing or harming as best they could. Flying machines, feet, fists and military fashion startled, stunned and scared the still armed thugs into a hasty withdrawal, despite their leader's muffled screams to stand and fight.

At the Gate, the ignoble leader waved a few of his men in ahead of him, before dragging a struggling Royce in after him as an unwilling shield while the shepherd kicked and kneed several nearest men in his escape attempt.

Shirtless, and bashing anything that approached him, Lorne charged directly across the courtyard, paying attention to nothing else beyond a vague awareness of a limp but barreling, half-dressed Satedan and a whirling Athosian just behind him.

Beyond the horde of retreating gunmen he saw Sheppard leap into the wormhole just before the scarred man screamed in frustration, slammed something to the ground and leapt after the colonel.

The explosion seconds later was enough to knock everyone to the ground, briefly stealing sight and sound from everyone in the area. The resulting Gate closure threatened to steal away their colleagues more permanently. Only echoes remained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Name for at least one of the F-302 squadrons on the Daedalus, mentioned in The Siege episodes, ending Season 1 and beginning Season 2.


End file.
